Broken
by JustAnotherKidHere
Summary: A new S.H.I.E.L.D needs new characters. New heroes. New villains. A new S.H.I.E.L.D. needs a new story. Meet the newest addition to the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s 'gifted' program.


Despite all odds, I am alive and well. I guess 'well' is a relative term, so I guess I will just say that I am alive. I am alive. This really means nothing and starting my story off like a forth grader's "What I Did over Summer Break" essay isn't going to make you fall in love with me and my story. I guess I sort of knew that. I just have this terrible problem of not caring when I should and caring when I just need to let go. So, after this terrible introduction I am sure you will ignore and (Hopefully) continue reading, I'm going to try and be a bit better. No promises. Never any promise. Never.

The inside of my elbow smelled nice. That, or maybe the high school smelled so bad, my inner elbow wasn't as bad comparatively. The room was a nice temperature too. Probably seventy. The air condition was working furiously, and I was listening to its lull. The conversation today was light. No one was screaming and my teacher had yet to use her nasally voice. The desk was cool against my face. The lights were half off because my nasally teacher was fond of saving energy. Of course, the A.C. begged to differ, but what of it?

I was so calm and relaxed, in fact, that I received a nice plush ball to the face.

I jolted awake and found half the class staring at me and the other looking down into their books. The ones staring received a stare back. Having a staring contest with ten people is easier than you would imagine. The ones that looked in their books were trying to be polite, but it only made shame rise in my face, which I immediately cursed. There was nothing to be shameful about. If they had an issue, they could talk to my GPA.

My teacher resumed her lecture about the Black Death and the flagellants. What a happy group of people. My thoughts twirled around my head.

The room was fairly small and the desks were far too close together. A single window showed the brilliant sun but seemed achingly far away. The A.C. was directly next to me. To my left the class sprawled out in uneven rows. The door was directly opposite from me. I hated not being close to the door. I had it beaten into me at a very young age that the one thing that will save you is not your own talents or skills, but your location and knowledge. Southern Michigan must have been the perfect location.

"Hey."

I heard the voice a few times before just now, but I was ignoring it. Firstly, who would want my attention? Secondly, I really didn't care what this kid had to say.

"Hey?" I blinked slowly and finally turned to the girl next to me.

"What?" I used my most polite come-an-inch-closer-and-I-will-cut-you voice.

"Your lip is bleeding," she said and turned back toward the lecture. Her head was turned attentively, but the doodles on her notebook told me that she wasn't really listening.

I ran my tongue over my lip and tasted that I was indeed bleeding. I groaned inwardly. My lip was trashed. I had the terrible habit of chewing on my lip. I read it in a book and I liked the character. So now, I have a terrible habit. Great fun.

I looked down at my elbow and saw that my inner elbow was smeared in my blood. Not a lot, but enough to smell. I quickly wiped away what I could with the palm of my hand and glanced around nervously. What in the world was wrong with me? Besides the obvious, I mean. I guess, compared to the obvious, nothing could be that strange.

I pulled out my hand sanitizer and wiped away what I could. I had time before advanced computing to go to the washroom and clean up. If someone asked, I could just say I got a bad paper cut. Oh, wait. I forgot. No one cared.

The bell saved me from my current class of advanced Pity and I stood up with the rest of the students. There was little room for me to maneuver around desks and toward the relative freedom of the hallway. It was nearly impossible to move when students filled the narrow cracks around those desks. Thus, I was forced to wait for them to filter out. I sighted my path out into the hallway that entailed crawling, leaping over desks and downright parkour and began weaving my hips around the obstacles.

But, you could never say that I was lucky. My teacher took a step in the path I intended to take and placed her hands on her hips. I breathed in slowly and swiftly ran my tongue over my lip. Still bleeding. Fantastic.

I looked up at my teacher who spoke slowly. "We need to have a chat."

I nodded. She had this habit of raising her right eyebrow whenever she talked and I was tempted to imitate. She waited, but I remained silent.

"There is no question as to whether or not you are my best student academically." Another nod. "However, dozing off in class is disrespectful. It will not be tolerated."

I nodded again. She raised her eyebrows. "Are you getting a full night sleep?"

I decided to be honest shook my head.

"May I ask why?" she questioned.

"Sure. Ask away."

My teacher looked confused for a second, but then regained her composure. "Why are you not getting a full night of sleep?" Her eyebrow arched further upward.

I shrugged. Like I would be able to tell her. Like I'd be able to tell anyone.

She raised her eyebrow until it blended in with her hairline.

I nodded. "I said that you could ask, but it is private, so I decline to speak. Thank you for your concern however."

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I understand that you have not had an easy life."

"I will not have this conversation with you." My voice cracked.

She smiled, sensing a crack in my armor. "Why not? Is the school not taking adequate care of you?"

I shook my head. "The school is fine. It is annoying teachers who pry into my private life who cause me angst." I bit off the last word in spite.

Passing period was in full swing. I wasn't going anywhere.

She settled into her feet and I prepared myself for a lecture of lengthy proportions.

"You know, I understand that it is difficult. With your parents gone and… everything else that occurred while you were so young, it must be difficult to adjust. Just know that these teachers… me… we are all here to help you. And academically you need no help, but your social life is virtually nonexistent. I understand-"

"Ms. Hills, I say this with the utmost respect. You do not understand and obviously no one showed you any of those videos about troubled children where they warn against claiming to understand. We may be troubled, but we aren't dense. We understand that you don't understand. 'Kay? May I go on to my next class now?" Ms. Hills was shocked that I talked back at her, but that shock didn't last.

Ms. Hills nodded slowly as the bell rang. She walked over to her desk and pushed papers away. "You know what? Don't worry about a pass; I'll email your teacher. Advanced Computing, correct?" I nodded and walked away slightly in shock. This was the teacher who thought a Texas Instrument was a gun. How in the world would she learn to send an email?

But, given my chance, I darted out of that class. The awkward and embarrassing conversation had some benefits. The halls were mostly empty and I had plenty of time to wash up. I made my way down the hallway. The carpet was dark blue and worn in two paths on either side. The walls were brick painted white and chipping. There were about five closed door on either side of me. I headed straight down the hall and into the girls' washroom. It was empty as well. One sink at the very far end didn't have a mirror. I headed straight toward that sink. The porcelain was cold against my skin. I turned on the water as cold as it would go and scrubbed in fingers and elbow. I needed a mirror to see if I had blood on my face. I cursed my luck and dried off my arms. Mirrors.

Don't think of them as revealing. Think of them as unbiased. Honest. They will tell you the truth no matter what. Good or bad. I closed my eyes and stepped in front of a mirror. Why was I so nervous? It is a mirror, for Paula Dean's sake. Just. Open. Your. Eyes.

I opened them and saw that my face was unmarked by blood. But the eyes are the second most curious body part, right after the tongue. They wanted to explore. I saw over my shoulder and took in the lumpy part of my sweatshirt. My hands must have been curious too. The reached up toward the lip of my sweatshirt and pulled down.

Angry scars ran across my collar bone. The ones where my sweatshirt fell were slightly red from the cloth rubbing on them.

So I just stared. I didn't bother recalling the memories associated with the scars. My brain could barely register their existence, let alone the repercussions.

That's when the intruder alarm went off.

"Crap," I muttered used my breath as I tugged my sweatshirt back down over my collarbone and darted out the door. I just needed to get into one of these stupid classrooms and sit in the corner like everyone else. All compact like mice.

The hallways were empty as they were before. I jogged over to the first classroom and knocked as I put my face against the window. The classroom was dark. I knocked again.

"I know you're all just sitting in the corner. I'm going to be in trouble if the principal finds me just sitting in the hallway," I muttered. Where else did I have to go?

I knocked for a third time, but no teacher opened the door. I sat back on my heels. Maybe the classroom was empty this hour. I ran to the next classroom. But it was too late. Every teacher now would be assuming that it was the principal checking in on us and making sure that everyone stayed in their class. The problem was that I didn't have a classroom. What was I to do? Go back to the classroom and stand on the toilet, pretending that I wasn't there?

Or, would I just survive the inevitable and be caught and probably given a detention? Did I care?

Location. My standard panic-mode thinking kicked in and I immediately scoured the area for possible hiding spots. I would rather have something a bit less hidden but with an escape route than a very well hidden spot without an escape. Then, my new non-panicking-mode thinking caught on and I realized that I really didn't care. It was a drill. Not the end of the world, a drill. I would just wait in the washroom and see what my punishment would be. But, seriously, I shouldn't even be punished. It wasn't my fault my nasally teacher decided to pry into my private life during passing period.

I headed back into the washroom and locked myself in a stall. The lock meant nothing except that the door would most likely not swing open in the middle of your alone-time with John. I sat down on the toilet and pulled up my legs so that no one could see them if they just peaked under the door. I doubted that anyone would put in that much work, to be honest.

I jumped and whacked my elbow on the side of the stall when the fire alarm went off. This is why I hated school. One of many reasons, to be honest. Pull a twice-over on us. Blasphemy.

I slid off my perch and, sure enough, heard noise coming from the hallways. An intruder may only kill a few, but in a fire, everybody's going to die. Oh, my, that was morbid.

I exited the washroom and moved in the flow of people. A few girls were chatting excitedly, as if pretending that the school was being attacked and then burning down was a _good _thing. Everyone was jostling toward the door. I hoped that I might be able to spot my advanced computing teacher so that I could claim presence when my name was called. If not, I'm sure that I would be able to find some teacher who would then find my teacher for me.

The herd of teenagers finally made it to the doors and everyone filtered to their assigned spot. My teacher was nowhere to be found. Fantastic. I walked up to the ceramics teacher who was taking roll call. Once she finished with her class, she turned to me. "Yes, honey bunny?"

I swallowed my disgust. "I was in the washroom when the alarm went off. Do you happen to know where the advanced computing teacher is?"

The teacher pointed toward my left. "I'm not sure, dear, but I believe he should be somewhere over there."

"Thanks," I said and walked in that direction. There were clumps of students in the quad. My school was organized like a "U". The classes were on each of the arms, and the main office was at the bottom of the "U". Currently, all of the students were squashed into the middle area of the "U," affectionately called the 'patio' and indifferently called the "quad."

I weaved between the classes and finally caught sight of my teacher at the very far end of the quad near the opening. Except the opening wasn't… open.

I started to jog as a large truck pulled up parallel to the opening and blocked half of it. A second car pulled up and blocked the other half. They weren't fire trucks.

I was about twenty feet away from my class when a man stepped out of the car.

With a gun.

A very large gun.

A very scary gun.

A freaking gun.

Instead of walking toward my class and consequently the big, scary man with a gun, I ducked into the nearest class. A single shout went up and suddenly, a wave of fear passed over the quad starting in the front and ending in the back.

"He's got a gun."

I froze in place.

It was those freakin' mirrors, I swear.

A shot went up in the air. Silence was immediate. The man's voice was loud, or maybe the silence was just too deafening to compete.

Once I saw the gun, I was among other people, so I wasn't sure what the man looked like. And location? Not the best. I should have been in the back. That was the worst location if there was a fire, but obviously there wasn't.

What was the deal with those drills? If they just showed up, who pulled the alarm? Why was there an intruder drill first? Why was everyone told that it was just a drill?

I mentally wacked myself on the head. No one would suspect a real intruder during a drill. I placed my finger over my pulse. It was a bit fast, but fairly normal. Three of the five girls near me were in tears. I wanted to calm them down. One man with a gun, no matter how large, was no match for several hundred students who are scared out of their minds. Thus, the question was posed.

What did he want?

I guess I was going to find out.

"Everyone keep very still. I do not want to hurt you, but I am willing to do what is necessary in order to get what I desire. Is that clear?" A few people nodded, but most people stayed still as he asked.

"Good."

The man meandered around my advanced computing class and toward the group of kids I was standing with. My teacher's fists were clenched and I knew that he was thinking about jumping the guy. I hoped that he would stay still. Location is everything.

I tasted blood in my mouth and consciously removed my lip from my mouth. The man was approaching the crying girl near me. My heart beat faster as he approached. I kept my head down, but occasionally glanced up. The man was out of distance of my computing teacher and my teacher knew it. The man did too. He had his finger on the trigger, loosely, but readily. That is what worried me. Big gun and lots of knowledge. But his location was all wrong. He had enemies at his back and all sides. Something was off.

The second man was yet to show up and the man was yet to explain what he wanted. Intruders always confused me. Either they came in with guns blazing, or they didn't come at all. There was no money to steal and they almost always got caught. What was the deal with this plan? Besides the fact that it was exceptionally well planned thus far. Where were the police? We all had cell phones to call the police, why hadn't it been done yet.

Hysteria was all around me. I finally looked up and saw the man's face. His youth surprised me. He wasn't quite a high school student, but he could pass for college if he didn't have a giant gun in his hands. He had sunglasses over his eyes. I didn't blame him. The sun was beating down on all of us. Those of us who didn't normally sweat in heat started to sweat. Maybe that was a result of the circumstances, but, who knows? The man wore a blue nondescript shirt and cargo shorts. His shoes were well worn and built for running.

He finally reached the girl who was crying and I saw that he wasn't smiling evilly. Nor was he frowning. He was just calm, very calm. That made me very, very worried.

He whispered in her ear and she flinched as if he had hit her. My realized that my hands were clenching and my back was aching. The aching was the worst. It was an itch that I needed to scratch, but refused to be allowed to be.

The girl shook her head through tear filled eyes. He merely nodded and turned around. He walked directly at my advanced computing teacher. Their eyes locked and I didn't have to evaluate stances to see who was going to win. My teacher didn't say a word. The man leaned in and whispered in his ear while holding the barrel of his gun against his thigh. My teacher clenched his jaw and shook his head.

I scooted toward the front of the class I was clustered in. The girl who was sobbing practically fell when I nudged into her in order to stand by her and get a good view.

The man whispered in my teacher's ear again and my teacher remained silent. The man raised his gun high and was poised to bring it down, but he stopped. My teacher had his hands defensively over his head.

Instead of pointing the gun at my teacher, the man merely turned around and pointed at the crying girl.

He shot.

She collapsed on the ground in tears.

I didn't move from where I was after the shot was made.

Why did I move into the location in the first place?

Location is everything.

This location got me shot.

I could feel warmth spreading across my thigh. The girl on the ground was wailing hysterically. The rest of the quad was silent, so her voice resonated around the area.

The guy who shot the bullet didn't even care that I stepped in front of his intended target. He looked back at my teacher who had gone eggshell white. The man approached my teacher.

I looked down at my thigh and immediately regretted it. A large dark red spot was growing by the second. Vertigo passed over my eyes and I looked up again. The man with the gun had the gun against my teacher's stomach. My teacher raised his hands and shook his head.

I couldn't hear what was being said, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the deafening silence, the screaming girl or the blood rushing past my ears. The pain hadn't come yet, but I was just waiting in anticipation. I was still standing on the right foot. Standing on a single foot is better than sitting on the ground. Location is everything.

I bit my lip was tasted blood. My lip stung, but my leg didn't hurt yet.

The little bit of pain brought all the paranoia I thought I left behind back.

What if this man knew? What if he was coming to take me back? What if he saw the scars? What if he was here to kill me? What if he knew? What if he _knew?_

I lip my lip and closed my eyes. Whether he knew or not, I had to do something. If this guy was trigger-happy, anyone's life was more important than my cover. If he did know, then my cover was blown anyway.

No time to lose.

Excitement rose in my chest. It had been so long. I was looking forward to seeing the looks on people's faces. I just had to hope that I could pull it off.

At that moment, my brain recognized the wound on my leg and my brain froze. The pain wasn't just jarring or sharp, it was an ache. But the ache was so thorough I could feel it all the way up to my head. Then my actual thigh felt like there was a burning metal pole sticking through it. My hands immediately went to the area of the wound, but my touch made it sting.

My balance was all off. I toppled to the right and would have fallen if two guys weren't in the way. They both righted me and I leaned against them. The scent of blood was cloying. The blood also smelled good, but I ignored that thought and focused on my head. The pain wasn't so bad when I focused on it and reminded myself what it was.

I glanced up and saw that the man had moved away from my teacher and was yelling. I still couldn't hear. Maybe it was from the gunshot. Maybe not.

My teacher was looking at me. I stared back. Then I realized that he was mouthing something. Run. Run. _Run._

The man didn't notice. I could see redness crawling up the back of his neck. His hand was white from gripping the gun. My teacher shook his head again.

The man waved and yelled. Again, no.

The man whirled around and trained his gun on the girl wailing on the ground.

My teacher didn't shake his head this time. He didn't do anything. His face was twisted in conflict.

Then the man shot.

There was no time for me to move into the bullet. This bullet wasn't aimed at her leg either. This bullet was going straight for her chest. That was not going to happen.

I yelled and the bullet stopped in mid-air.

It spun slowly in the air and then dropped to the ground. Everyone looked at me. After all, I had yelled.

My teacher's mouth was open. He was the only one whose face I really saw. The two guys who were holding me up froze in place. I could feel their muscles tense.

Don't mind me, just freezing bullets in the air. Carry on.

The guy with the gun was likewise frozen. He slowly turned his head to me. The gun followed his gaze. "Hello."

Fear ripped through me and I furiously tried to pry off my sweatshirt. The guy shot his gun again, but the bullet never left his gun. He took a step closer.

"Get this sweatshirt off me!" I screamed. My hearing had returned, but I was in such a panic, everything was muted. The two guys holding me up didn't move. I moved the fabric over my face and finally got it over my head. The guys were frozen in shock and confusion. My arms were exposed. So was my neck. I was in a tank top.

Everyone saw the scars. And my back.

The guy was advancing toward me still. His pace was slow, like he was approaching a wild animal. He raised his hands in defeat. He slowly bent down and put his gun on the ground.

"I just want to talk," he said. His voice was calm. My heart rate did not appreciate his tone. I raised my left hand and felt the energy cup in my palm. A soft orange glow filled my palm. The man slowed down. "Relax. I'm here to help you."

I didn't believe him. It wasn't exactly a wonder why.

I cleared my throat and felt a quiver of pain move up my body. I winced. "Pick up his gun." No one moved. "Pick up his gun!" I screamed. Even the girl on the ground was silent. My teacher scurried forward and picked up the gun. "Give it to me," I said.

He ran over and handed it to me and then stood nearby. I took the gun and dipped the nozzle of the gun in the orange glow of my hand. I pulled it out and threw the gun on the ground. The tip had melted off. The guy just looked at it.

"Though you were going to shoot me," he admitted. "But you didn't. Do we have some sort of trust then?"

I shook my head. "You can trust that if you hurt anyone else, I will not shoot you, I will split your liver in two and then force it out of your belly button. You can trust that, okay?" I meant it as a joke, but since I was wincing in pain, no one laughed. Humor had never been my strong point.

The man just nodded his head. "Sure. Hopefully it won't come to that."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Even if you don't trust me, may I, and everyone else, have the pleasure of seeing your…?" he asked, gesturing toward my back. He was still very calm.

I really wished that I didn't burn that gun. A lead bullet should have gone through his head right then. I guess everyone already saw the tips of them, and they would see them later, but I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

"I'm leaving now," I choked out as a fresh wave of pain rolled over me. I leaned over so that I could breathe. The scent of blood got thicker as I leaned further down. "And you're never going to find me."

He finally broke into a small smile.

Then I flexed my back muscles and I felt my wings extend. My tank top tore a bit, but I wasn't all that concerned. A startled gasp went through several classes of students. As if a stopped bullet wasn't enough, what else was this freak doing? The ache that I always felt lifted away. It was like being forced to sleep with your legs cramped up and finally being able to stretch them out.

They were beautiful. They were white at the center and slowly faded to brown as they reached the tips. The guy was just smiling. I wanted to whack that smile off of his face, but I was afraid to get too close to him.

I stopped leaning on the two guys and jumped forward on one foot to give myself more room. Starting off was very difficult from ground zero and nearly impossible with a hurt leg. No real choice now. I pulled my wings up and lifted up from the ground. Now that I knew he wanted me, I could leave and be fairly certain that he wouldn't harm anyone else. I pounded the air furiously until I was a good distance in the air.

North seemed like a good direction. My left leg dangled uselessly down. I went into a fall and then curved up and started heading north.

New life. Fantastic.

Unfortunately, I didn't get that far. I forgot about the second man. The second man also had a gun. A nice large gun that cut through my wing like a hot knife in butter. I plummeted.

In my panic, I tried to curve my fall so that I wouldn't land too roughly, but that isn't very easy with one wing and one leg. I spiraled into the very center of the quad and landed heavily on my leg. I twisted to avoid crushing my leg and rolled over my bad wing. They were both on the left. Fantastic.

Pain rolled over me in waves. There would be a crash where black dots would crawl over my face, and then there would be a moment of clarity before the next wave. I could feel unconsciousness creeping up on me. Part of me wasn't all that upset about it, either.

I was right beside a bench. In the moment of clarity I saw streaks of red on the bench but it took me a while to realize that it was mine. I was losing a lot of blood very quickly. That was not good. I was not a doctor, but I knew that fact.

Both men came into my line of view. They both had their sunglasses on still. I was sweating. I could barely move my arm, even though that wasn't the broken part. I mustered up what little strength I had left and formed light in my palm. The first man merely stepped on that hand. I cried out and the light disappeared. The second man crouched down next to me.

"Cut it out," he shot at the first man. He reluctantly took his foot off of my hand. I pulled my hand into my chest. The second man lifted his hand up to his glasses and prepared to take them off. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "This is going to hurt."

"Hurry up," the first man prompted. The second man's mouth turned down into a frown.

He never got to take off his sunglasses. As soon as his hand touched the glasses, he went flying to the side. The first man pulled a smaller gun out of his waistband and turned to the left. He shot several times, but all I could hear were pings. He kept on shooting. Then he went flying off to the side as well.

I grimaced and tried to turn my head. Soft hands kept my head still. "Stay here. Don't move."

I tried to nod, but my body wasn't cooperating. I saw metal-clad feet move past my face and noises flashing by. What seemed like seconds later, the cold soft hands returned.

"I'm going to pick you up." Again, I tried to nod. Location is everything. This was not a good location to be in. The hands moved to pick me up. My body protested and screamed out in pain. It must have been my mouth that screamed because the hands stopped moving. I started to hyperventilate. The black dots were larger and the waves of pain turned into a constant screeching. I bit down on my lip. A small manageable pain.

I closed my eyes tightly. I wasn't really seeing anything anyway. The voice kept on whispering in my ear, but I didn't understand. My leg was pounding and my wing was aching sharply. I needed to rest. I needed to sleep.

I was still bleeding. I wasn't sure what I expected, but I was wishing that the blood had stopped. That was not the case.

"Sorry," I managed.

The voice stopped talking. I opened my eyes a crack and saw that we were in the center of town a mile away from the school.

"For what?"

I cleared my throat. I tasted blood. It didn't taste all that bad. It smelled good too. "I'm getting blood all over you."

My rescuer chuckled. "Blood washes right off."

I looked up and almost fell out of his arms. "Deathlok."

"It's okay," he assured. "I work for myself now."

"Oh. Okay. Is it alright of we…" I trailed off as I lost my train of thought, "catch up later?"

Deathlok nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. Because I'm…" I trailed off as everything went black.


End file.
